


fuck you flowers

by tinylittletypo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Flowers, M/M, One Shot, wolfstar, wolfstar fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-28 22:19:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15059021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinylittletypo/pseuds/tinylittletypo
Summary: “How do I passive-aggressively say fuck you in a flower?”





	fuck you flowers

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first attempt at writing anything i apologise in advance ahah

Remus was, once again, completely and utterly listless. Of course, this isn’t to say this wasn’t a regular occurrence, being a part-time worker at a flower shop, and it also isn’t to say that he particularly dislikes his job, though the perpetual scent of pollen and continuous ticking of the shop clock could get monotonous.

He sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair for the third time in that minute. Needless to say, work was definitively slow today, and the dormant entrance bell seemed to torment him as he rolled yet another sheet of tissue paper in a desperate attempt to keep himself occupied.

As if on cue, a tinkling chime cut its way through the silence. The thunk of heavy boots were accompanied by the mildly aggressive handling of the door, and Remus glanced up at the figure entering the shop.

He almost laughed at the utter juxtaposition of character. Before him stood the spitting image of one attempting to achieve the ultimate ‘punk rock’ aesthetic, surrounded by floral pots and plants of all different colours. The ensemble the customer had donned came complete with ripped jeans, combat boots, a Rolling Stones t-shirt and worn leather jacket, accessorised with over shoulder-length black hair that was tied up in a messily tousled man-bun and jawlines and cheekbones sharper than butterknives. He looked like a goth greek god, and as the familiar clunk of boots came to stop in front of Remus, he had long since diverted his eyes back to the tissue paper in an attempt to appear candid.

This, of course, was abruptly interrupted when the stranger slammed a twenty dollar bill on the counter. 

“How do I passive-aggressively say fuck you in a flower?”

Remus let out a choked laugh, clearly taken aback at such a direct question. He blinked several times at the man, searching for words to answer. 

Remus paused, then shrugged in indifference, once again glancing away from the intense stormy grey gaze of the customer back to the crinkling tissue paper.

“I mean, flowers don’t particularly scream ‘fuck you’ in my head, but I guess sending some dead flowers might get the message across. Didn’t work out, I see?”

The stranger sighed in defeat and dragged a hand through his scalp. By this point, he was leaning against the counter, and Remus gradually became more and more acutely aware of his breathing.

“Yeah, he decided the best way to spend his time while I was away on a work trip was to fuck half the people in our neighbourhood,” the customer said.

Remus glanced up. “I see. That seems like a slight over exaggeration.”

The man placed a black nail clad hand on his chest, throwing his head back in pretend agony. 

“My man, you wound me,” he wailed, “must you thwart the one truth that has kept me in anguish for the past week? It is as though no one will even try and see the perspective I have on this desperate journey for justice!”

Remus rolled his eyes at the display. 

“Right, so, clearly you’re not one for exaggerations,” Remus deadpanned, making another fold in the tissue paper.

Remus could tell even without glancing up there was a lot of petulant pouting and arm crossing. He sighed in defeat.

“Look, mate, what do you want? You can’t just storm in here and try unleash your anger onto me - I’m just a fuckin’ flower shop employee.” The folds in the tissue paper were beginning to crinkle.

“You’re hot when you’re annoyed.” 

Remus had significant trouble attempting to refrain himself from repeatedly slamming his head against the wall.

“Great. Now you’re flirting with me. You don’t even know if I’m straight or not.”

“You’re a fucking flower shop employee.” 

“Touché.” Another sigh, though with a glint of amusement, and Remus could feel the long sleeping butterflies in his stomach rearing their antenna clad heads. “Do you still want the flowers?”

“The ugliest you’ve got-” the man paused, and leaned down to read Remus’ name tag. “Moony?”

Blood flushed Remus’ face until it roughly resembled the shade of pink of the over-folded tissue paper in his hands. “Long story. Work nickname.”

A rough yet charismatic laugh reverberated throughout the empty shop. 

Remus took the opportunity to turn around and escape to the back of the shop, heart still pumping furiously in his ears. He smiled though, shaking his head as he scavenged for any dead flowers he could find.

He arrived back to the counter with a handful of flower corpses clenched between his fingers, beautifully tied with a bright pink bow to add that extra passive aggressive stab.

The customer laughed again as Remus began wrapping the dead flowers in the pink tissue paper. 

“Wonder what else you could do with those beautiful, delicate hands of yours,” the man said, smirk evident in his voice.

Remus almost choked on air. “My god, are you always so forward?”

“When presented with a gorgeous, sarcastic, flower shop employee who swears and has a nickname of ‘Moony’. What is a man to do?”

“You’re utterly ridiculous,” Remus chuckled under his breath. “Can I have a name to write on the message card?” 

“Just write: ‘Fuck you. SB.’”

“I’d say that’d get the message across. SB?”

“Sirius.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Sirius. My name is Sirius Black.”

It was Remus’ turn to laugh. 

“Don’t mock me, Moony!” Sirius jokingly pouted again. “Tell me your real name; with a nickname like Moony I’m sure I can find something to tease you about.”

Remus smiled and handed the wrapped flower corpses to Sirius. “Keep the 20. And the name is Remus. Remus Lupin.”

Another bark of laughter. “And you think Sirius Black is a strange name, Mr Remus Lupin,” taking the dead bouquet from Remus’ hands.

Sirius paused, then promptly ripped a section of the immaculately wrapped paper and grabbed a pen off the counter, flowers tucked under his arm to scribble something.

“Sorry Remus, you intrigue me too much. Meet me sometime and enlighten me about the originations of ‘Moony’?” A hand reached forward, phone number messily scrawled onto a section of pink tissue paper. 

Remus laughed again at the utter ridiculousness of the situation, taking the paper from the tanned hand before him. 

“Get out of my shop, Sirius. I’ll text you,” Remus said, mirth glinting in his eyes.

***

Remus’ leg had not stopped bouncing as he sat, anxiously, waiting for Sirius to arrive. One hand drummed against the arm of his chair, and the other fidgeted with the hem of his only nice sweater.

The doorbell rang. Remus’ heart performed an Olympic-medal worthy triple backflip.

As slim fingers met and turned the cool silver handle of the door, he was met with the sight of Sirius Black in a suit™, leaning casually against his door frame.

Remus decided his heart should be paid for this shit.

“Hey.”

In response, Sirius just moved his hand from behind his back to reveal a bouquet.

Of dead flowers.

Complete with messily wrapped and tied pink bows and tissue paper at a pathetic attempt to resemble Remus’ work.

“They were home grown and hand picked, Moony. An organic fuck you from SB to RL.”

Remus placed his head in his hands, then leaned back as uncontrollable laughter consumed his body.

He only just began to calm down as he reached out and took the flowers from Sirius’ smug frame. 

“Fuck you too, you bastard. Let’s go.”


End file.
